


Ruled by Impossibility

by yarrie



Category: Death Note
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Could technically be platonic but that wasn't exactly the intention, M/M, Not A Fix-It, idk I'm just the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarrie/pseuds/yarrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near makes sure that a small part of Mello outlives him. It must be done, because he doesn't want to mourn. </p><p>But for Mello, the idea that Near will mourn him when he's gone reeks of absurdity and impossibility and inevitability, all at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Mello

Strictly speaking, Mello couldn't have hated Near, because it's not possible to hate someone so viciously when the only thing you have against them is a number. _Number one_ doesn't even belong to Near. That's L's territory.

Strictly speaking, Near couldn't have felt anything for Mello at all, because he reached absolute self-awareness a long time ago, meaning that the tremulous grip of emotion is just as easy to shake off as the twitching in his fingers. And Near has impossibly steady hands.

But the problem, if you subscribe to the notion that life or death rivalries are a problem, is that neither of them care to follow what is strictly possible.

Mello hates Near.

Near kind of likes Mello.

Both are still true, even though Mello isn't there anymore.

* * *

Once, during the Kira case, Mello sent Near a package. Near hesitates to call it a _gift_ , because he knows that Mello wouldn't have seen it that way, and he likes Mello enough to indulge the other boy's beliefs. Nevertheless, it was a package, and it was not meant to harm him, which does not mean that it was supposed to _help_ him either, but...

It's a gun purchased under the name Nate River. It comes in as normal mail, which is an impossible feat all by itself. The SPK headquarters doesn't have a mailing address.

Notice of the dropoff takes no time at all to cross the globe, gracing the desks of everyone who has prematurely dedicated the rest of their lives to the Kira case. This is because it comes by Near through a well-known channel of Mello's mafia, and everyone is nervous about the viciously intelligent boy-man who just so happens to control a Death Note.

And, naturally, if you knew the right people, it would have been possible at that point to track Nate River down, look him in the eye, and write his fate on a damn near omnipotent piece of paper. And Kira certainly would have, could have, if he had known who Nate River was.

It's surreal that dozens of people know Near's real name - courtesy of Mello's ambiguous indiscretion - and know N by voice, while lacking the context to put the two together. Near actually doesn't mind. As long as the connection between who he is and what his parents called him never comes to light, this is no more dangerous to him than a couple of lucky guesses putting Nate and River together. It's not like they're extraordinarily unusual names.

He barely even thinks of himself as Nate River, and it almost amuses him that the Note treats such an arbitrary label as something important enough to decide death _._ Near is the name he gave himself, and the one he will use for the rest of his life.

Mello doesn't write his name or anything on the package, but Near doesn't need it. He peels off the stamp carefully and smells chocolate.

There are, of course, so many things that the gun could mean, but Near knows which interpretations are important and which ones aren't.

It's a threat, because Mello is telling him that he knows Near's real name, and with the Death Notes floating around, that is more dangerous than it's ever been for any generation of L successors. Still, it's a threat that carries little weight. Mello would think of it as cheating if he became L's successor by killing Near directly. This is one of the few morals that he retains around the boy who he hates so much.

It's a test, because Mello knows that there is only one reason Near would use it on himself. He wants to confirm, in his own brutal, straightforward way, that Kira doesn't know the connection between N and "Nate River." Near receives the package soon after Mello kills off most of the SPK. It would be a simple thing for Kira to imply that Near shoots himself out of guilt. Perhaps nobody would even suspect otherwise, because Halle was already sending him worried looks when he opened the package and _smiled_. The point is, if Kira uses the situation to his advantage, it means that he already knows Near's real name, so the chances that Mello himself has been similarly compromised are dangerously high.

It's a _test_ , because Near could have used the gun on himself even without Kira's interference. Maybe.

It's wishful thinking, because Mello desperately wants to outlive him.

* * *

Nobody seems to understand that when Near mourns Mello, he is not mourning the person. Mello may have a body and a grave, but even those two things put together can't assure death.

He should know. He's L.

It's not even _possible_ for Mello to die until Near receives a thick package of papers stuffed to the brim with the blonde boy's personality. He takes his time reading, even though he feels the undeniable urge to tear through them like he would a particularly fascinating case (which, in effect, is exactly what the papers are). These are Mello's last words, and everyone knows that last words _precede_ death.

And as far as last words go, Mello's are perfectly suitable - by which Near means impossible, and incorrigible, and overly dramatic. Just like how Mello always was.

Near still has one page left unread, and he has folded it over and hidden it in the middle of his playroom, protected by a wall of cards. That's how much he wants Mello's story to be unfinished.

So, you see, there is no reason to mourn Mello-the-person.

What Near - or rather, L - mourns is the fact that what was once merely _untouchable_ has now become remote to his other four senses as well.

He finds it a strange irony that the one person who would have understood this - no, perhaps the _two_ people who would have understood - had to die before he started feeling this way.

* * *

Mello is not the only person whose wishful thinking reflects in the "gift" that he sent Near.

The truth is that Near doesn't know for sure why Mello sent him a gun. Anything he has to say about the matter is merely a hypothesis. But he does know that if Mello intended the gun to be a test for Kira, he ought to have done _more_ than just send it to Near.

He should have made sure that only Yagami Light hears about the gun, because that would have killed two birds with one stone: Near gone, Light incriminated.

He should have realized Near couldn't just assume that it actually came from him, not when the Death Note changes so much of a person's free will.

And he really should have timed the dropoff so that nobody else is around to witness Near receiving the package, because the SPK is made up of people who are used to regular assassination attempts. Suspicious packages alarm them, and suspicious packages having to do with Mello alarm them even more - even Halle, who finds it hard to separate Mello's destructive tendencies from his brilliance. She knows nothing about him that he does not willingly tell her.

Finally, and most importantly, he shouldn't have left Near with a full magazine of bullets. Near has steady hands. One would have been enough.

All of which brings into question some of Near's conclusions about just _what_ Mello was planning. But the dirt on Mello's grave is still fresh, so Near doesn't trust himself to differentiate between a mistake and a purposeful action when it comes to the little things that still connect them.

There are precious few certainties about Mello's false gift, but this is one of them:

The gun was chosen specifically for Near.

The handle is white.

* * *

Wammy's House has not changed since his stay there. Near has never referred to that period of his life as childhood. He was always more of a guest than an occupant.

Like the previous L, he sees no reason to interact with the next generation. The thin network that connects these children will one day bring them all back to Wammy's as funeral attendants when they reach that point in their lives - when Near reaches that point - but no one pretends to have a sibling-esque relationship with their housemates.

He only knows this by listening to Roger, though. He hasn't gone back except once - to see Mello's body lowered.

The children all admire him. That, and nothing more. Near understandably approves of the fact that none of them go so far as to hero worship him, the way Mello did with their L.

Nowadays, he also accepts that there is no need for the children at Wammy's House to realize that L is just a human being. Once, Near had borne a mild grudge against his predecessor for cultivating an entire school of brilliant, gifted children to aspire to his name and nothing else, but after Matt's death he had to accept that this was never the case. Of the children at the House, only he and Mello ever truly considered becoming - or being - L.

Which means the competition had been limited to two participants from the beginning. It was - _is_ \- only Mello that challenges him. It has always been only Mello.

* * *

Near doesn't know how much of his bias reflects in the shiny metal surface of the gun. It's probably a little too much, especially for someone who favors logic as much as he does.

But it is comforting to know that he's not wrong about the importance of the gun being fully loaded. Even if he's not altogether _right_.

It was a strange whim that commanded him to send the gun to the lab for analysis. He thought they would find something more concrete than the semi-hopeful imaginings of a genius boy.

They do.

"There were fingerprints on all of the bullets," Rester informs him, holding onto the forensics report with a slightly uncomfortable hand. "No matches found."

Both parts of the report give him pause.

"Did the autopsy take Mello's fingerprints?"

At Rester's short nod, Near leans back pensively. No matches. It appears that Mello still has the capacity to surprise him.

"Does the report say where the fingerprints were found?"

Rester clears his throat. "Yes sir. Most were on the backs of the bullets."

Near thinks about everything he knows about guns - not a terrible lot, but certainly more than people would expect of him. He glances back at Rester, who has the knowledge but none of the creativity needed to decipher Mello's actions. He decides that it's still worth a shot. "And this is important, you think," he prompts.

"Sir," Rester replies, with just a hint of exasperation, "I'm not sure _what_ to think. If this is really Mello's doing..."

Near shrugs, as if to say that he expected as much. "Your input is still appreciated," he notes, making the would-be compliment sound rather lifeless.

"Yes sir. Typically, you would only touch the backs of the bullets to remove them from the magazine." His voice is strong and would have sounded confident if he hadn't been so confused.

Near nods, his suspicions confirmed. So someone else - who? - started emptying out the bullets, but even so, it was probably on Mello's orders. Mello, who has always known about the steadiness of Near's hands...

Hands...

And then he realizes.

* * *

"L," Roger says to him with a very gentle sigh, "This is a very unusual request, as I'm sure you know."

"I do."

"L." A pause, even deeper than the last. "Near."

"You will do it."

"Yes," Roger replies, looking rather weary. "Indeed. I imagine you have a good reason for exhuming his body."

"Fingerprints," Near replies, which is not much of an explanation unless you know his mind as well as Roger does. Or Mello.

Roger peers at him sharply. Near can almost see the thoughts flowing in that razor-sharp mind, left intact even in his old age. "This is a personal matter," he apparently concludes, without looking for confirmation. "I will leave you to it, then."

The next day, preparations are made for the exhumation of one Mail Jeevas from the Wammy cemetery.

Near has no superstitions about the posthumous treatment of bodies, but after the fingerprints are obtained, he gives strict instructions for everything to be put back exactly as it was. This is for Matt, who wouldn't have liked to be bothered, and for Mello, who prayed for his soul.

* * *

His instincts are right, of course.

It was Matt who must have removed the bullets, probably rolling his eyes at Mello the entire time.

Near will probably never know how they all ended up in the magazine again. He doubts that it was Matt's doing. The third in line was only third because of his lack of initiative.

Which means that Mello...considered the possibility of Near's suicide as more than a possibility. But then he decided against it. He wouldn't have wasted the other bullets on Near otherwise.

Near will never find out what possessed Mello to change his mind.

He will never find out how much of Mello he could have had.

He will never find out how much he actually did have.

* * *

But he does try.

Bee Lorry is the name of the man who sold the gun, and Near goes to see him in person on the anniversary of Mello's half-death.

He doesn't like being out in the world, it's far too open and noisy, but today's mission is something that he can't possibly delegate to his subordinates. He has to be present for this to work. Gevanni and Halle are monitoring him from the crowd, though. They'd do it even if he didn't ask.

Bee Lorry doesn't have a criminal background, but he deals with people who do, and that's where he makes most of his money.

The only difference between how Near dresses normally and how he appears to Lorry is the fact that he's wearing shoes today. The man eyes him suspiciously, probably expecting him to be underage. "You want somethin', kid?" he drawls.

"If I wanted to buy a gun, what type of gun would you sell to me?" he asks, clearly unimpressed by the display in front of him. Mello would have been even more disappointed, he thinks. He suspects that this man keeps the better part of his merchandise on special reserve.

As expected, Lorry laughs derisively and leans forward, bulky arms blocking Near's gaze from the guns under the countertop. "Woah, kid, maybe you oughta grow some hair on your balls first," and then he chuckles, wiping his mouth, like he'd said something really clever.

Near doesn't even blink. "Would it look like this?" he asks, pulling out the smooth ivory-handled gun and laying it on the counter.

The man stops laughing. "Well, I'll be _damned_."

* * *

The visit turns out to be mostly a waste of time. Mostly.

Near hears nothing that he didn't already expect from the half-disbelieving dialogue (almost monologue) that follows. Lorry didn't know Mello "that well." Which basically means that he didn't know Mello at all, because Mello doesn't do things halfway.

But there is _something_ about the way Lorry looks at Near, even though nothing interesting turns up in the actual conversation. Something odd, and strange, and irksome. Like he couldn't believe in Near's existence, much less in his participation in this conversation.

When Lorry moves to pick the gun up, Near stops him, snatching it back in a flash. "What are you doing?" he asks, coldly.

The man raises his hands in a gesture of embarrassed surprise. It's impressive how much different his attitude is now that Near's made it clear that he's connected to Mello. "Just pickin' it up, kid."

"Well, don't."

"Sure," he shrugs. "Guess you liked it after all," he adds, as Near turns to go.

"Pardon?" he doesn't even turn around.

"The, uh, gun."

Near is staring at the door with a penetrating set of dark gray eyes. Waiting.

"Blondie said you'd never use it."

* * *

His fingers shake when he pulls the trigger at age thirty, after he chooses a successor named Origin whose rank he doesn't know, but he suspects that it's number one. He makes sure to fulfill that duty, at least. He is perfectly aware of what might happen if he doesn't.

In fact, there is nothing special about the fact that his fingers shake. They haven't stopped since Mello left him behind, though no one notices except Near and his tarot card palaces.

The fact that he no longer has steady hands doesn't bother him, even if it means that one bullet no longer means certainty. He supposes that some part of him would be satisfied if the first bullet fails. If he ends up getting killed by number two.

The last sheet of paper from Los Angeles BB murder case is still buried, unread.

He is glad that Mello will outlive him.

 


	2. To Near

Near is alone. This has been true for as long as he can remember, and Near is the only one who cares to remember.

Mello is surrounded by people. This has been true for as long as anyone can remember, and Mello is the only one who doesn't care to remember...who doesn't care, in general.

The funny thing is that the opposite is also true:

Near is surrounded by many, many people. People who may or may not exist. People who drift in and out of sight on multiple levels. One is the level of reality. One is the level of fiction. One is the level of imagination. Near does not know which level he belongs to, if he belongs to any at all. But he has eyes, and it is not hard to see, because he actually wants to see.

This is because Near _likes people_ , at least in theory.

Mello is alone because he doesn't.

At all.

Matt doesn't count because he's kind of like an extension of Mello. L doesn't count because L's not a real person.

It shouldn't be so easy to be alone and surrounded at the same time, but they manage.

* * *

Mello doesn't think about suicide very much.

It's not that the idea of it disturbs him or anything. He just isn't interested in wasting his time thinking about it. That applies to the people who carry it out, too, not just the act itself.

Even if somebody pointed a gun to their own head right in front of him, Mello wouldn't lift a finger - or even an eyebrow - because as long as that somebody isn't one of _his_ somebodies, he doesn't give a fuck. The list of people that he'd actually try to stop is short. Matt. Roger. Halle, if he's in a good mood. Near, if he's in a really shitty one, and only then because he's not sure what he would do if Near died before him.

Mello is selfish, and he's not ashamed to admit it. 

But he's not the kind of selfish that overlaps with being suicidal.

Admittedly, he's never had the opportunity to seriously consider killing himself, not with Kira running around, but he has complete faith in his own sense of self-preservation. The only thing even slightly tempting about the idea is how much it would screw with Near's head.

The religious side of him likes to point out that suicide is a _sin_ but that's not the reason he avoids it. He's already accumulated so many sins that killing himself off is probably an act of mercy for the rest of the world. Not that he actually cares. The rest of the world can go fuck itself - or finish fucking itself, because it's already doing a pretty damn good job.

When he does let himself think stupid thoughts about suicide, there's only one question on his mind.

It's not about Near, not about Matt, not about Kira, not even about L.

No, he just wants to know why the Death Note accepts suicide as a method of death, because _suicide_ is vague enough that the victims get to pick their own way to go.

It's uncharacteristically...merciful, by the Death Note's standards.

* * *

At a gun store twenty miles from the headquarters of the mafia, Mello is people-watching. Or, rather, person-watching.

You might wonder what he's doing here. You might also wonder why he decided to join the mafia.

It's the same question, really.

From his vantage point on a nearby roof, he glances through the window and into the store - it's Tuesday, a slow day for business, but even on slow days there's no guarantee of privacy. Bee Lorry is schmoozing with a nervous looking businessman and his pretty wife. He's obviously trying to squeeze a repeat visit from both of them - preferably on separate occasions. This is going to take a while.

Mello watches and waits.

* * *

There's a lot that he doesn't understand about the Death Note.

To be fair, it's a notebook that kills people. He'd be more worried if he _couldn't_ think of a dozen things wrong with that. Because it's a fucking notebook. Because it kills people.

Because it's a fucking notebook that kills people.

Nothing about the Death Note makes sense, but some parts make less sense than others. Hell, he doesn't know how many people he's managed to kill already, but it still surprises him every time that it works.

The left half of his brain quibbles over how the Death Note messes with time-space. And physics in general. And biochemistry. And physiology.

The right half of his brain understands that it doesn't _matter_.

This is where Mello actually has the advantage, sort of - he's always been okay with the idea that there are some things beyond human understanding. Near isn't. Near considers himself an atheist, pure and simple. It's not totally true, though - nowadays Near is just a skeptic, because no atheist would be able to comprehend meeting a Shinigami.

Mello, on the other hand, believes in God, in Hell, sometimes even in Heaven. He has for as long as he can remember, and he's grateful for that. It's probably not going to save his soul, if the Death Note gets its way, but at least he has experience in believing the impossible.

Shinigami are a little different from Mello's concept of God, of course, but the point is that he has the advantage for once, and he likes it that way _,_ dammit.

* * *

When the annoying bitch and her confused husband finally leave the gun store, Mello decides _to hell with waiting_ , and walks in like he owns the place. He does, actually. Bee Lorry unofficially belongs to the mafia, and the mafia unofficially belongs to Mello.

Lorry squints at Mello suspiciously and says, "Need something?" He clearly has no idea who he's dealing with.

"I'm looking for Denueve," Mello says.

"He ain't here, brother," the man replies, chewing on a cigar. Which is a mistake, because he should have said _I don't know what the hell you're talking about_ , like everyone else.

"Of course not," Mello agrees acidly. "He's dead."

The puffy, wrinkled eyebags lift long enough for Bee Lorry to look genuinely concerned before falling again. "He is?"

"The one with the name is," Mello says. "But the body's still alive and kicking." Then he gives Bee Lorry a look, because only one of them has the upper hand here, and it's definitely not Lorry.

There's a grimace on the man's face like he's got vomit in his throat. "Fuck it all," he mutters, straightening up and putting away the guns spread out on the counter. "What do you want?"

"L's _dead_ ," Mello repeats, rolling his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Sorry, kid. Not my problem."

"Shut up," Mello says, nice and slow. "It was Kira."

Silence. Then Bee Lorry grinds his teeth. "Fuck. That sonuvabitch."

Mello doesn't know which sonuvabitch Lorry is referring to, Kira or L, but it doesn't really matter. It's a fitting moniker for both of them. "Eraldo's dead, too," he adds, purposefully glossing over the fact that no one knows whether Kira had anything to do with it. "Still think it's not your problem?"

A long exhale.

"Work with me," Mello says.

The former Denueve snorts. "You gonna give me a choice?"

"Yeah, I am," Mello smirks at him, "You can wait for Kira to kill you, or you can help me kill him first."

Bee Lorry sucks on his cigar slowly. "Who the hell _are_ you, kid?"

"M," he replies.

Lorry scratches his head. "Em? Like the first half of Emma?"

Mello has to suppress the urge to bang his head on the table, because obviously this is why the previous number 3 detective in the world was so far behind the other two. Good thing Mello doesn't need him for his brains. "M. Like the letter. Like L."

"Like L, huh." Lorry drums his fingers on the counter, seemingly satisfied. "Right. So, M...you got a plan?"

"Yes." Which is true. Mello's plan has always been to beat Near. Everything else is secondary.

"Let's hear it."

"Here? No," he says viciously, because it'd be stupid to hold negotiations on Lorry's territory. "Outside. Five minutes." He pulls out a bar of chocolate, biting it so savagely that one side of Bee Lorry's face actually twitches in nervousness.

"Five, gotcha."

It's more like ten, because a customer chooses that precise moment to walk in, and said customer balks at the fact that Bee Lorry is shutting down early.

Mello takes pride in the fact that Lorry's tough act fails to deter the balding, heavily moustached man... but _his_ glare works perfectly.

* * *

"How'd he kick the bucket?" Lorry asks, and his straightforwardness is incredibly refreshing because Mello has been playing mind games with Kira and Near for so long that he's forgotten what it's like to talk to someone who's blunt and honest and callous. Obviously, this is only true because Mello isn't in the habit of talking to himself.

"Long story," Mello says. And it's not like he could tell Lorry anyways. He only knows half of it, L's half.

"Do I want to know?" Lorry mutters. By which he means, of course, _Am I gonna live longer if I find out?_

"No." Mello doesn't want to explain the Death Note to this guy. It would be a waste of time and energy. Lorry is like an extra chess piece that he doesn't know how to use yet. He wants to wait for Kira's next move first.

"Yeah, didn't think so." Lorry moves the cigar around in his mouth. "So?"

"So...what?"

"What d'you want me to do?"

"Right now? Nothing," Mello chomps on the chocolate. "You'd fuck everything up."

"Hey!"

"It's true, so shut up," he states flatly. "You know the SPK?"

"No," Bee Lorry replies, raising his thick eyebrows.

"Good."

* * *

Near believes in life, Mello believes in the afterlife, and Matt...believes in respawning.

No, really.

* * *

Mello tells his best friend about the Death Note because Matt is willing to die for him, so he deserves to know.

This is how Mello tells him: "Kira's killing people with a notebook."

This is how Matt responds: "Huh. Okay."

"You write down somebody's name and how you want them to die, and it happens."

"Huh." A very long pause. "Okay."

Mello sits down on the couch and waits for a cutscene so that his best friend can absorb what he just heard.

The screen is covered with weird mocha dots that are supposed to be blood. They seem to multiply the longer the game goes on. Mello is concentrating on them so much that he almost misses it when Matt asks absentmindedly, over computer generated gunshots, "Whaddaya think would happen if I wrote my name and put down _Comes back as a zombie_?"

Mello stares at him. Matt's brain works in mysterious ways. Mello might be his best friend, but that doesn't mean he understands him. "Why the hell would you do that?"

He's not worried that Matt might be seriously contemplating suicide. That's not the problem here.

"It might be cool," Matt says, eyes focused on the undead pixel bodies on his television screen.

"Because rotting is cool?"

"Nah, but wouldn't it be awesome to live forever?"

"Technically you'd be _dead_ forever."

"Uh, yeah, but _everybody_ 's dead forever after they die."

"Right," Mello says, rolling his eyes. "There's still that little problem with decomposition...do you really want to see yourself rotting?"

Matt kills another badly animated sucker before retorting, "Hey, the zombies don't seem to care."

"They don't have eyeballs," Mello says.

"Buh - wha? What does that have to do with anything?" Pause. Frantic thumb jerks. "Crap! Fuckin' zombie nurses!"

"They don't have to look at themselves, so of course they wouldn't care." A pause as he bites through his candy bar.

"Exactly!" Buttons go smashsmashsmash as Matt takes out another wave of enemies.

Mello stares at the deformed globs and shapes that are supposed to represent the undead, and shakes his head. "I wouldn't want people to see me like that, though," he mutters.

Matt grins at him. "You know," he says matter-of-factly, "not everybody's as vain as you, Mel."

Mello hits him.

* * *

When he kills off the SPK, he spends far too long staring at the next slot on the Death Note, so very tempted to write Nate River's death into reality.

He doesn't, of course, as history will tell you. But he was tempted.

He still is.

Sometimes he imagines what it would be like to make Near disappear. The Death Note is the perfect tool for the job if that's all he wants - but, as it happens, it isn't. Simply killing Near wouldn't prove his superiority.

It would be pretty damn inconvenient, actually.

If Near dies, he'll have to get a new pet peeve. Fuck that, he'll have to get a new _life_.

And actually, even if he manages to beat Near this time, it would be a hollow victory. Being acknowledged as a rival means much more than being the winner, and he knows deep in his bones that Near will never acknowledge him like that, because Near never wanted them to be enemies to begin with. The only thing driving their continued relationship is obsession - not ambition, not desire. He _knows_ that, because he's not stupid. He simply doesn't care enough to stop caring. His refusal to kill Near is just another shade of the odd status quo they've built up over the years.

Besides, he can't decide what sort of death would suit Near best.

Now, don't get him wrong, this isn't a sign that he cares about Near's feelings. He doesn't. Really. Just like how Near doesn't care that Mello hates him.

It's not about how they feel, and it's not about what they do - it's about what they have. And what they have is a history.

Regardless of how their paths diverged after Mello left Wammy's, the past is untouchable. Mello doesn't have much of a conscience to bother about, but he still can't shake the feeling that he owes Near a proper death, if nothing else. There's no other way to satisfy his hatred, or his respect.

Near is a control freak, so he would _probably_ prefer suicide. Mello knows this, of course, but he can't kill Near based on a _probably._

* * *

He buys the gun when he realizes that Near has padded walls.

Really, as long as you remember that this is _Mello_ , that's the only explanation you need.

By this point, he's half-convinced that he's going to kill Near someday, when their fragile equilibrium collapses under the weight of their personality clash. He's also half-convinced that Near will want to be the one to end his own life. That's the nice thing about the Death Note - you can have it both ways at the same time.

Nate River. Suicide. Three little words. He could really do it.

The problem is that Near doesn't carry any weapons. And once Kira is out of the picture - is it too early to say that? - well, anyways, once Kira is out of the picture, Near won't have easy access to his bodyguards' guns, either.

And his playroom is completely windowless, with carpet on the floor and padding on the walls. Childproofing measures. Near-proofing measures.

It's no accident that Near's playroom is practically built to keep him from hurting himself.

Back when they were still in Wammy's House, Near used to sleepwalk every single night. One of the cooks discovered it quite by accident when she saw him padding softly into the playroom and walking straight into the door. The _half-open_ door.

Mello remembers the incident because it's one of those annoying things that prove Near's humanity. There are more of those than you'd expect, and Mello knows more of them than you'd expect. Well, to be fair, he's always known more about Near than he wants to, because he doesn't want to know Near at all. They lived in the same fucking house for _years_ ; it was a simple case of cross contamination.

Now that they live miles and miles apart, he has no such excuse for knowing that Near still sleepwalks occasionally, even at the grand old age of eighteen. The fact that Mello can keep such a close watch on his rival with a less-than-stellar spy means that either Near is patronizing him or he has terrible character judgment. Patronizing people is Near's default form of communication, so the former is more likely. Probably.

Except...maybe not, because Near actually likes Mello, so he really _does_ have terrible character judgment.

Let's repeat that: Near. Likes. Mello. Yeah, there's definitely something a little weird about that.

Mello wonders if the other SPK members know that when Near gets up to play in the middle of the night, he's actually sleepwalking. He doubts it, doubts that Near trusts them enough to explain that it's not just one of the many quirks that all geniuses are entitled to have.

And if Near doesn't enlighten them, they definitely wouldn't notice on their own. Not even Mello can tell the difference between sleepwalking Near and conscious Near without talking to him. Even when he's asleep, Near's motor control is impeccable.

The fact that Mello knows so much about Near is not a matter of trust. It's just another part of the status quo. There's something a little weird about that, too.

Nate River. Suicide.

 _He could really do it_.

Yes, he could, but he didn't. Doesn't.

* * *

Mello dreams of Near mindlessly stuffing his throat with puzzle pieces.

Gasping. Choking. Staring. Accusing.

Then he wakes up, breathing hard - because Near is so detached that he might actually do something like that if he was driven to commit suicide, and he _does_ have a perfectly serviceable toyset. Near has always, always been overly concerned with efficiency. And the Death Note would never stop him from being as efficient as he wants. 

Mello can't shake the image from his head.

It's four AM and he's fighting both insomnia and sleep. Neither is winning out, but it doesn't matter, because Mello's on the losing side either way. Eventually, he rolls over on the sheetless mattress and impulsively dials Bee Lorry on his cell phone. "I need a gun," he says without thinking. That's how he knows he's in trouble - because if you don't use perfectly sound logic when you're trying to deal with Near, shit happens. Really bad shit.

Bee Lorry is mumbling and half-asleep, which is annoying, because he can barely keep up with Mello when he's completely awake. "...'nother one? Whydya keep breakin' - "

"Not for me," he interrupts impatiently. "For...L."

"Uh, kid, I thought he was dead?"

"Not that L."

"Why the hell do you wanna buy a gun for _Kira_?"

"Not _that_ L either."

"Okay," Lorry says, and it's obvious that he thinks Mello's finally lost it. He might be right. "What kind of gun?" he asks finally, almost completely awake by now.

"A white one," he says - blurts out, to be more accurate. It's justified, sort of, because white ostensibly belongs to Near, just like how chocolate belongs to Mello. To this day, he can't even stand marble floors because they're too damn white and too damn Near.

Bee Lorry grunts impatiently. "White, okay, but _what kind_?"

"Don't care," Mello says.

"Look, I need to know if you want - if you want a semiauto or whatever - "

"Don't. _Care_."

"But it'd help if you - "

Mello exhales sharply through his nose, wishing that Bee Lorry had already outlived his usefulness. "As long as it's not a fucking cannon, I don't give a damn, alright?"

"Kid - " Exasperation doesn't suit Bee Lorry. Even if it did, it certainly wouldn't work against Mello.

"Don't even - he'll never use it," Mello snaps, with the sort of gut-wrenching certainty that he never expected to feel about his greatest enemy. There's a beat of silence, the tantalizing opportunity to spin it into something less sentimental - but he doesn't say anything else. The words won't come. It's _mortifying._ Mello's not an honest person by nature, but even he recognizes sincerity when he hears it. This is the moment when he realizes that his attachment to Near has gotten way, way out of hand. This is the moment when he realizes that he's never going to kill Near.

He wants to rewind, he wants those two seconds of honesty back.

"Shit, kid, you're just as cryptic as L. The...uh...first one, I mean."

And it's a meaningless compliment from someone like the former Denueve, but somehow it makes Mello feel pretty damn good inside. Almost good enough to cover the mortification, but not nearly good enough to stop him from sliding into a bit of a mental crisis because the implications of _he'll-never-use-it_ have finally finished scrambling his brain.

He only registers a few minutes later that Lorry's hung up on him.

That's when he realizes that if he _does_ use the Death note on Near, he could have just given the brat a heart attack and been done with it.

* * *

Then he dreams about Near having a heart attack, and - and - well, fuck that.

Near shouldn't _have_ a heart to worry about. It just feels wrong.

* * *

Matt looks up at him when he drops down next to the bed. "Thought you got lost," he says. "How long does it take to get burgers, seriously?"

"Shut up, Matt." Mello fingers the loose bullets on the coffee table with one hand. "What're these?"

"The bullets. Near's." Matt pauses before twisting his head around. "Seriously?"

Mello looks at him blankly. "Seriously what?"

"You yanked out the cord while I was in the middle of a level so that I would _take the damn things out._ And now you don't even remember asking?"

Oh. Right. "You've already played the whole game through sixteen times, so what's the big deal? I was busy." Besides, he knows that Matt actually appreciates the occasional reminder that he doesn't live in a video game, that there's a whole reality out there waiting for him, even if he chooses not to acknowledge it most of the time. Mello is Matt's anchor to the real world. Matt is Mello's anchor to sanity. It works out pretty well most of the time.

"No, you were talking on the phone." Matt chews on his cigarette and levels a disbelieving look at his purported best friend. "And I was playing for a new _record_ , dammit!"

"Well, _I_ was ripping someone a new asshole," Mello counters, which only sounds like an excuse if you don't know him.

"...O'course you were, Mel." He's grinning now, more out of exasperation than amusement. "Who?"

"Denueve."

"Oh, _him_." Matt promptly loses interest. It's no great accomplishment when it's Denueve.

Mello snorts. "Yeah, _him_. Don't be so high and mighty. You act a lot like him, you know."

"What? No way."

"Yes, you do. For one, you both really suck at prioritizing - "

"Nah, I'm worse than he is," Matt says, shamelessly.

"You haven't seen him around his guns," Mello replies.

"Like you're any better - I've seen you in a candy store, Mel."

"This isn't about me, this is about you." Mello drops onto the ground and removes the clip from Near's gun. The bullets feel cold, even through his gloves.

Matt sees him and squawks indignantly, "Wait, you're putting them _back?_ "

"Yes."

"Then why did you make me take them out?" he huffs.

"You needed a distraction."

"I did _not_."

Mello levels him a look. "You've been playing that game for twenty hours straight. _You needed a distraction_."

"I was THIS CLOSE to beating my record. Thanks a lot, Mel, now I have to play for another twenty hours to get my groove back."

"You're welcome," Mello says, without missing a beat. He pushes in the last bullet and eyes the clip critically.

Matt groans. "Mel, you're a horrible person and I hate you."

Mello glances up. "That's what Denueve says, too."

"Oh, would you just shut up about that? I don't get why you let him hang around. He's not even that useful."

"Neither are you," Mello points out wryly. Then, more quietly, he adds, "But he...knew L." He doesn't specify which one. For Matt, _L_ is always the first L.

Matt looks at him with an uncharacteristically serious expression and nods. "Okay."

"And he tells me stories, sometimes," Mello puts the gun back together and runs his index finger down the metal barrel, "Especially when I do something that reminds him of L."

"...you remind him of L?"

"Apparently."

Matt stares at him for a solid two minutes before informing him, "You're nicer, though."

Mello blinks. "Uhh. What?"

"L wanted to put his rival in jail. _You_ just buy guns."

"That's not a fair comparison. Near's a bitch but he hasn't killed people." Mello pauses. "Directly."

Matt rolls his eyes. "And you know this how?"

"Because I keep tabs on him, obviously."

"You've been stalking him?" Matt smirks. "No, stupid question, of course you've been stalking him. How long have you been stalking him?"

"Not stalking, _watching_ ," Mello insists.

"Right, because stalking and watching are completely different." Matt nods sagely. The smirk is still firmly in place.

"They are," Mello says. "I'm just watching him because he'd fuck up all of my plans if he had the chance."

"Ahhh, so it's not stalking, it's _paranoid_ stalking. Thanks for clarifying."

Mello rolls his eyes. "Look, it's _Near_. You can't underestimate him just because he wouldn't actually kill you."

Matt looks at him confusedly. "But he would. If he had to, he'd kill me like..." he snaps his fingers.

Mello frowns.

His best friend shrugs. "What? He _would_. He doesn't care one way or another about me."

"Well, no," Mello acknowledges, "But he does care about people. Conceptually, I mean, not individually."

"He cares about _you_ ," Matt corrects him.

Mello grits his teeth. "No, he doesn't," he says impatiently, because they've had this conversation how many times now? It's one thing to admit that Near likes him, but actually _caring_ has a different sort of connotation. Mello doesn't think that Near is capable of it, honestly.

"Yes, he does," Matt retorts, "God knows why. Even _I_ don't care about you all the time - "

"Shut up, dammit." Mello swings at Matt's head a little too hard to be playful. He's really tempted to give his best friend a beating, but knowing Matt, it would be more effective to just unplug the game - again.

He doesn't, though. Let it never be said that Mello doesn't know what restraint is.

Now that he thinks about it, he probably _is_ nicer than L. All three of them.

"Is it still stalking if it's mutual?" his best friend wonders aloud.

"Just eat your god-damned burger, Matt."

* * *

Matt was Mello's anchor to sanity.

Matt is gone.

But Mello is still sane.

So, it turns out that he doesn't need Matt as much as he thought he did. The loss hurts, but he still wants to live, with or without his best friend. He still wants to beat Near. He still wants to beat L. None of this should matter to him anymore, because _Matt is dead_ , but he can't stop wanting things. He can't even hate himself for being so fucking selfish.

If he doesn't need Matt, he probably doesn't need Near either - and Near probably doesn't need him.

This is the meaning of resilience. He hates it with such a burning passion that he can't help but realize that real hate is something that he has never experienced before. Good to know. At least he's not dying for someone that he hates, then.

For the first time in his life, he feels genuinely sorry for what he's planning to do, but he can't be bothered to change his mind now.

Mello is Near's loose end, and Takada is Kira's.

He doesn't need to do this.

He just wants to.

* * *

Back in the early days of their pseudo-alliance, the former Denueve asked him, "Why'd you start workin' for the mafia?"

It's a very good question.

It started with L's death. Everything started with L's death. Things just went to hell after that. Even now he wakes up sometimes and wonders if the whole thing was just a dream.

He remembers weighing his options as carefully as a dealer with a precious sample of crack cocaine. It's a good comparison in more ways than one; he knew from the very beginning that none of his options would end well for him.

It was no use following L, because L was dead.

It was no use following Eraldo Coil, because Eraldo was dead.

So, when Denueve asks, "Why'd you start workin' for the mafia?" there's really only one answer.

"Because you were still alive."

* * *

When Mello dies, his last thought isn't terribly eloquent or coherent. It's mostly a string of curse words, half in English, a quarter in Russian, and the rest in a weird mix of Japanese, Korean, and Spanish.

His second-to-last thought is a little more meaningful, though.

He thinks about Matt, who was both right and wrong about Near. He thinks about Near, who was both right and wrong about Kira.

He doesn't think about himself. He had plenty of time to think about himself before he decided to go on this suicide venture. There's no need to indulge himself _that_ much. Besides, Mello isn't interested in people who commit suicide.

Instead, he remembers all the years he spent struggling to beat Near. Fuck, their relationship is a mess, but he can't force himself to regret any of it. You don't stop caring about winning just because you've lost.

For all his flaws, Mello is a fair person. Near hasn't fucked up his life nearly as much as Mello has, so - all other things being equal - Near deserves to live a little longer. This is the best that Mello can do. No matter what, Near is the one who has to deal with the aftermath - after all, Near is probably the only one _capable_ of dealing with the aftermath. There is absolutely nothing fair about that.

Mello is glad that Near is used to being alone.


End file.
